


Rising Sign

by Tobyaudax



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward!Barry, But not a ton of angst- it's okay, Eventual Fluff, M/M, Matchmaker!Leonard Snart, Mick Rory Deserves Better, did someone order a romcom?, little bit of pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-25 08:24:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12031977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tobyaudax/pseuds/Tobyaudax
Summary: The hallucinations Mick's been having aren't hallucinations- Leonard's ghost has stuck around after the Oculus explosion and he really just wants Mick to be happy. And if that happiness can include Snart's long-standing crush, one Barry Allen, then everybody wins...





	1. Prologue: Hearts on Fire

**Author's Note:**

> The only alterations I'm making up to the Invasion! story arc is that Barry and Iris are just best friends. They've likely crushed on each other at different points in their relationship, but for the purposes of this story/AU, they're only besties.  
> I'm not sure I'll cover any of the actual events of Invasion!, but I can't rule it out, either.
> 
> The main title comes from the wonderful Mike Doughty song, "Rising Sign". ...It, uh, doesn't take effect until a little later on, though. [Have a listen, won't you](https://youtu.be/HZHHnEa2Cx0).
> 
> The Prologue title comes from the Cut Copy song, "Hearts on Fire". [Listen over here](https://youtu.be/yex-HJ1pkG8).

_There's something in the air tonight_  
_A feeling that you have that could change your life_  
_There's something burning up inside_  
_I reach out for you and our hearts collide_

"Who shot his kitten?"

Mick almost succeeds in not flinching when he hears Snart's voice at his side. He's only recently been able to hear his partner clearly; the static buzzing that accompanied his first appearance all but gone, now. A glance out the corner of his eye reveals Snart standing to his right, looking out towards the assembled teams. Mick isn't sure who Snart was referring to and doesn't feel like studying everyone and guessing.

"Who're you talking about?" He's learned to keep his own voice quiet and not look at Snart directly when he addresses him- no one else on the team has been able to see him. Mick's still not entirely sure he isn't crazy and imagining the other man.

"Bah- the Flash," Snart catches himself, probably on the verge of revealing the kid's real name. It's a funny thing for him to hold onto after he's died, but Mick respects it. At least anything he's told Snart in confidence will remain so. "Looks like he's going to cry any second. What happened?"

"Dunno," Mick admits. "And I don't care- there're more important things to be worrying about right now."

"Ah, the aliens. With a name like 'Dominators', you sure they aren't just messing with you?" Snart raises an eyebrow and gestures towards the Legends where they're clustered together near the center of the warehouse.

"Lance got the message, seems to think it's legit. If Flash and his pals are fucking with us, they're really selling it." Mick shrugs, looking around the building for the third or fourth time, taking in possible exits and places to take cover, should the need arise. With no one to physically watch his back anymore, he has to be extra vigilant. And if his perusal of the space lets him look at his dead friend again, well, that's just a bonus.

Snart looks the same as the day he died, complete with cold gun strapped to his thigh and goggles around his neck. Mick had asked him if he was stuck like that or if he could somehow change clothes. Snart teased Mick about wanting to see him naked, but never answered the question so Mick just let it go. His partner looks as solid as a living person but Mick found out that if he were to try to put a hand on his shoulder- or any part of him- it would pass right through. The image never blurs or fuzzes out like a bad TV reception, Mick just can't touch him. Even though they virtually never made physical contact with each other when Snart was alive, Mick didn't think he would miss having the option as much as he does.

"Go talk to him," Snart urges, pointing directly at Flash. "I don't like the look of that. His friends either don't see it or they know something- oh, god. What's Raymond doing?"

"Looks like he's talking to Flash," Mick deadpans the obvious. "So now I don't have to." He and Snart watch the exchange without sound, too far away to hear anything. Flash looks over the assembled Legends, glances at Mick, and says something. Haircut gives him a sad kind of smile and replies.

"If they're talking about you, I swear…" Snart hisses through clenched teeth. Mick just chuckles and stuffs his hands in his pockets to keep from slapping the ghost on his not-really-there back.

"What if they're talkin' about you?" Mick imitates Snart's eyebrow raise with a mock sneer. Snart gives him that little smirk that's reserved just for family.

"No one talks about me but you." He says it like it's common knowledge, the most basic information in the world.

"M'sure Lisa does," Mick retorts quietly, a little sullen. He looks around for a distraction, something else to talk about or do. He and Snart didn't talk about things like that when Snart was alive and Mick isn't about to start now. "Flash looks better already, see? Let's go clean my gun on the ship- leave the planning to those assholes."

Snart sighs as Mick walks away, the sound little more than wind. He appears at Mick's side instantly, easily keeping pace. "If you talk to Flash, I'll tell you where I kept your half of that Italian job out in Keystone."

"Why's this so important to you?" Mick turns to Snart abruptly, frustrated. He's far enough away from everyone that he can risk glaring at his old friend. "You're the one has a big, schoolgirl crush on him."

"…Maybe," Snart actually admits, casting his eyes down and to one side. He looks up and fixes his attention on Mick. "But I can't exactly skip over there and strike up a conversation, now, can I?"

"An' who's fault is that?" Mick snaps, regretting the words as soon as he says them. He drops his head and heaves a deep, bone-weary sigh. When he looks up again, Snart is practically beaming. The little shit always has a plan, always knows just what he's doing, exactly how to manipulate Mick into what Snart wants. Mick doesn’t have the energy to be mad about it; it's just nice to know that death hasn't changed him.

"Fine." Mick caves and tries to shrug the exhaustion from his shoulders. "But you're comin' with me. In case it gets weird or something."

Snart rolls his eyes. " _Please_. Things are always weird where the Flash is concerned."

Mick is smiling at the comment as he approaches the hero, but the expression falls away as he comes within a few feet of the other man. Damnit, Snart was right- Flash looks pretty bad. Having a dead kitten pretty accurately describes the kid. Flash's friends are clustered around the Arrow's people and some of the Legends, so Mick keeps walking, trying to think of something to say. He's never been much for the first word- Snart has more than enough charisma for the both of them.

"Tell him he looks like shit," Snart offers. Being a ghost must also mean he can read minds. Though it's much more likely he can only read Mick like that.

"Hey, Flash," Mick starts, nodding a greeting at the other man. "You look like shit."

"Uhh, gee, thanks, Rory," Flash mutters. He looks startled for a moment, like Mick's the last person he expected to talk to him. "What, uh, what d'you want?"

"What were you talking to Haircut about?" Mick cuts off whatever Snart was going to suggest as a follow-up in favor of finding out what Ray was up to.

"Oh, uh, nothing really." Flash looks around the warehouse, one hand reaching towards his neck before stopping halfway there and dropping back to his side. Big, soulful, green eyes meet Micks and he says, "I was asking about Snart, actually."

Mick's too dumbfounded to check himself. "And why th'hell would you ask _him_?" He jerks an angry thumb over his shoulder. "He wasn't _there_ and he wasn't even Snart's friend-"

"Mick," Snart is at his shoulder, issuing his name like a command. "Let it go. This isn't about me."

"I know," Flash replies, quiet enough that Mick has to move closer to hear him. "But he was the first one- first, uh, Legend, I saw. I mean… I'm sorry. About Snart- Leonard? Ray said he was a hero."

"Jesus, Raymond," Snart chuckles. Mick can see the humorous shake of Snart's head in his peripheral.

"Naw," Mick drawls, his grin vicious. "He was a _dumbass_."

"Love you too, Mick." Snart tries to slap him upside the head and his hand flies right through. Mick laughs but has to cut it short- it sounds a little crazy, maybe a bit hysterical.

"I mean, I get it?" Flash says a lot of things that aren't questions like they are ones. "I know what it's like. Losing someone… people, that you care about. You guys were, like, friends, right? … _Partners_?"

"Not sure I know what you're implying there." Mick studies Flash with a distinctly Snart-like head tilt.

"He thinks we're _together_. At the very least, fucking." Snart sounds too amused by the assumption. Not for the first time, Mick wishes his friend was physically present so he could hit him.

"Not implying anything!" Flash has his hands up, eyes wide. "You've known him, knew him, for a long time, right? You guys were… close?"

"Yeah, sure," Mick acknowledges. Flash relaxes; deflates, really. An awkward pause stretches between them until Snart coughs in Mick's ear. "…Thanks," Mick says to Flash, voice noticeably rougher.

"I'm glad you came over, really." Flash looks around the warehouse for a moment before turning those big, doe eyes back on Mick. "I wanted to, I dunno, tell you myself. That I'm sorry. It's… it's not easy and if you ever wanted to talk about anything I guess I mean I'd be happy to listen."

Flash does more than run fast, Mick observes with a wry smile. He can feel Snart grinning next to him, too. "Thanks, kid. We don't- I don't do feelings and crap like that, but, thanks."

"Oh, hey, no problem," Flash laughs.

"His mom was murdered," Snart tells Mick during the next silence. Mick whips his head around to stare incredulously at his friend. Snart continues, undeterred, "But sounds like someone else in his life is dead now. Ask him- ask him what he meant about knowing what it's like."

Mick just wants to get back on the Waverider and take apart his heat gun. Maybe even head out into 2016 and get some real food. But he knows Snart won't let this go. Belatedly, he wonders if it's possible for Snart to possess him. If they weren't standing in front of the Flash, he'd ask. The whole thing would probably go a lot better if Snart were in the driver's seat, so to speak. But he's gotten curious, now, too. He can't remember the last time he saw someone so… beat down. And damn if the Flash doesn't have an expressive pair of eyes on him. There's something about the kid that makes Mick stay put, something that has him listening to Coach Snart.

"You said y'know what it's like." Mick addresses a point just beyond Flash's shoulder; he doesn't want to see the reaction in those eyes. "Losin' someone important. That what's bothering you, kid?"

"Not bad," Snart appraises. "A little blunt, but that's just you."

"Hah, wow. Uhh, yeah, I guess. Not to be, uhm, rude or anything but… why do you care?" Flash looks him over, cautious, but there's an eager kind of gleam in his pretty eyes.

Mick almost tells him that he _doesn't_ care, that Snart's on his ass about the whole thing. But then not only will Flash think he's crazy, he'll likely rush over and tell the Legends. Like they need more reasons to keep Mick at arm's length. …Not like he doesn't mind where he is on the "team" or anything.

Mick shrugs, a sloppy, uneven jerk of his shoulders. "Always figured you hero-types had perfect lives," he admits. It's a half-truth. "Guess I just wanted to know what could make you look like someone shot your cat."

"Oh this is going _so much better_ than I thought it would," Snart mutters from somewhere behind him. He's pacing- something he didn't do very often when he was alive. Mick supposes he can do whatever he wants, now that only Mick can see him.

"I don't have a cat." Flash almost sounds amused, but there's a sad little twist to his smile. "And my life has never been anything _remotely_ resembling 'perfect'. But, uh, I guess I did bring it up, huh? My, uh, my dad. He was… killed, recently. And my mom before that. Years ago- 16 years ago. And, hah, I guess you heard about the whole thing with the timeline..?"

Flash keeps his eyes on Mick's face, darting between Mick's eyes, searching for something. That's when Mick realizes just how close the kid is standing to him- there're maybe four or five inches between them. He almost takes a step back, but it seems like a bad moment- Flash just unloaded on him.

"Yeah, he does that," Snart is back at his shoulder, grinning at the kid. "Always meant to ask him if he has any idea what 'personal space' is."

"I heard, yeah," Mick finally answers Flash. "Not like I can judge or blame you- f'you knew half the crap we messed up along the way…" He laughs, mostly to himself, thinking about Rip and the Legend's general disregard for the time stream.

"Like, I get why everyone's mad. And I don't blame them- I screwed up _a lot_ of stuff!" Flash's hands are suddenly on either side of his head, fingers flexing on the mask like he's going to take it off. "People's lives and- and Dante's dead and Cisco's _just barely_ talking to me and, yeah, I don't blame him! If I could, I wouldn't talk to me, either."

Flash's shoulders sag and he lowers his hands enough to drop his head into them. Mick takes the moment to glance at Snart, hands spread imploringly at his waist. _I have no idea what to do here_ , he tries to convey.

Snart lets out a low whistle. "Yikes. That is… a lot. Tell him you're sorry about Dante. …Cisco's brother? You broke a bottle on his face when he tried to hit you with a table leg? Jesus, Mick, keep up."

Mick grits his teeth against his retort for Snart. He focuses on Flash, on the slight shudder of the kid's shoulders. _Oh shit- he's not crying, is he?_ Mick raises a hand, hesitates, and finally lets it drop awkwardly on Flash's upper arm. "Hey. Sorry about that Dante kid. That… that sucks."

Flash looks up as soon as Mick touches him, more surprised than anything. But he doesn't flinch or move away, so Mick just leaves his hand there, adding a rough pat when Flash doesn't say something right away. His eyes are dry, at least, and Mick offers him a lop-sided smile. "You didn't kill the guy yourself, did you?" Mick's pretty sure he knows the answer, but asks anyway. Flash goes pale and Snart tries to hit him again.

"What-? No! No, I didn't… really have anything to do with it- directly…"

"So that ain't your fault," Mick reasons cheerfully, gripping Flash's arm in assurance. "And that Cisco kid needs to pull that stick outta his ass and leave you alone about it."

"But I did change the timeline. I went back and- and saved my mom and made it so my dad lived, too-"

"Kid, slow down." Mick pauses to share a laugh with Snart over his word choice. "So you fucked up time a little- I was serious when I said that's pretty much all me an' the Legends have been doing. World's still spinning, we're still here."

He lets go of Flash's arm with another pat, dropping his hand to his side, fingers twitching at his heat gun. This is more talking than he's done in… a long time. It's almost fun, though. Not like the conversations he and Snart had, when his friend was alive, but it's similar. Mick finds that, the longer he stands around with the Flash, the less he minds being there. It's kind of therapeutic, especially since he hasn't had or felt the need to open up about anything, himself. He wonders, idly, if his various shrinks felt good listening to him over the years.

"Yeah, you lost people, but that ain't your fault, either," Mick continues, unprompted. Snart nods approvingly beside him, his eyes on Flash. Mick's just starting to warm to the subject, drawing on the things he was told after he burned his house down, when Flash seems to pull into himself.

"It is, though," Flash whispers, but his voice gets louder the longer he talks. "I could've saved my mom- twice! And I did, once, and that just- it messed up _everything_ for _everyone_ , eventually, so I had to… I had to go back- _again_! I had to go back and just let her- _let him_ -!"

"Hey- cut it out!" Mick grabs him by the shoulders, gives him a rough shake. "Listen," he says, though he has no idea what to say next. He keeps hold of Flash, fingers flexing intermittently as he thinks.

"We might be in over our heads with this," Snart admits. Mick snorts and shakes his head. It must be pretty bad if Snart's about to throw in the towel.

"So… you messed up," Mick starts over, taking his time and choosing his words as carefully as he can. "Sounds like you made some bad calls. But also seems like things're fixed." Mick shrugs. "Mostly."

He looks around, searching for something, anything reassuring to say. He glances at Flash, but his attention stays on the little ember of hope trying to spread in the kid's eyes. "You're just human, kid. You're gonna make mistakes. The fact you tried to make 'em right just shows you ain't as bad as you think. Some asshole once told me that you can't change the things you did, but you can change what they make of you. So just… be better. Do better."

Flash stays quiet for a while, watching Mick watch him. That little ember glows, blossoms into a small flame and before Mick knows it's happened, the kid has him wrapped up in a hug.

"Wow," Snart breathes a little distance away. "If I were alive, that little speech might've gotten you into my pants."

Mick laughs, awkwardly hugging Flash back from where his arms are trapped at his sides. "Watch the ribs there, kid. Not as tough as I look."

"Barry," Flash says, his voice muffled from where his face is pressed against Mick's shoulder. "My name's Barry. Snart really didn't tell you, did he."

Mick's surprise keeps him from responding right away, but he eventually shakes his head. "Nope- not me or Lisa. When that dick says he'll keep a secret, he keeps it. Took it with him and hasn't given it up, yet."

Flash- Barry- laughs and lets Mick go. He does that staring back and forth at Mick's eyes thing again, then bites his lip. He has really nice lips, Mick notes. Decision made, Barry reaches up and pushes the mask off his face, letting it flop backwards like the hood on a sweatshirt. His eyes are even prettier without the mask in the way and his messy brown hair is almost begging Mick's fingers to comb through. Mick gives him a once-over before catching himself and bringing his eyes back up to meet Barry's. Mick's not embarrassed- the kid has to know how good he looks.

"You get it now." Snart's at his ear again, a leer in his quiet voice. Mick nods; yeah, he gets it. Flash is a whole lot more than a tight little ass in red leather.

"Barry Allen," Flash says, extending a hand even as a blush lights up his cheeks. Mick looks at the hand and, feeling kind of silly, takes it and shakes.

"You already know who I am," he reminds Barry.

"Yeah, but, it completes the moment if you just say it."

Mick sighs over Snart's snickering. "Mick Rory," he mutters, but he's smiling as he keeps shaking Barry's hand.

"Take him out to lunch," Snart suggests offhandedly. "That pizzeria near our safehouse in Englewood."

"S'too late for lunch," Mick retorts before he remembers that Barry can't see Snart. He squashes down the panic in his expression and gives Barry an even bigger smile. "You wanna get dinner? There's a great little pizza place out near Englewood."

Barry blinks at him, blank-faced, for a few seconds. He looks around again- Mick's going to ask what he's been looking for- then grins at Mick, all dimples and nice teeth. "Sure, I could eat! Lemme just, uh, let Ol- the Arrow and everybody know. We're- they were talking about training and I need to… run outta town and pick up a friend who might be able to help. A little fuel for the trip's a great idea!"

"Want me to sit this one out?" Snart asks as they watch Barry flip the mask back on and jog away.

Mick shrugs, eyes never leaving Barry. "If you want. Nobody for you to talk to around here, though."

"I dunno about that…" Snart's grin sounds downright evil as he studies the little cluster of people Barry approaches. Mick almost asks what he's talking about, but decides he doesn't want to know. Whatever Snart wants to do when Mick isn't around is his own business; same as it was when he was alive.

They watch Barry talk with some of the assembled… "heroes" isn't entirely accurate, given the histories of most of the people from Star City. Mick taps his fingers lightly against his heat gun while he waits. He takes note of how everyone regards Barry, able to tell who the kid's pissed off with his time traveling antics and who's still on his side. It's a depressingly small number of the latter. Barry's shoulders are slumped and he gestures vaguely in Mick's direction a few times, earning him (and Snart, even if they don't know they're looking at a ghost) a couple curious looks. And then Barry is beside him again, a sharp wind smacking Mick in the face a second later.

"I told them we'll bring back pizza for everybody. Took some orders." Barry's smile is forced as he holds up a folded piece of paper. No pockets on the Flash suit, looks like.

"They're gonna have to wait till we're done," Mick chuckles. Barry smiles a little wider, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "So," Mick clears his throat and looks Barry up and down. "How's this work? Can't say as I've ever been… flashed anywhere before."

"Really? Huh, I coulda sworn I did. Guess it's just always been Snart… Ah, sorry-"

"Don't worry about it." Mick assures him with a dismissive wave of his hand. Snart's self-satisfied little smirk only gets on his nerves a little. "Just 'cause he got himself dead doesn't mean you can't talk about him."

Barry nods and looks on the verge of another apology, but thinks better of it, biting his lip and taking his turn in eyeballing Mick. "It's, uh, it can be kinda weird, moving so fast. And I just- it's easier if I carry everyone the same way, so, uh, sorry? If it's weird, that is."

The kid moves up into Mick's space again, bringing a nice mix of hot ozone, something like worn leather and sweat with him. One lanky arm snakes around his shoulders and Barry's starting to squat to scoop him up when he bumps the heat gun in its holster. He stops and looks up at Mick. "Can you, uh, leave that here? You shouldn't need it- we won't be gone too long."

"Not really anyone here I trust with this baby," Mick admits with a sigh. Snart is beside him in a Flash instant, holding out his hands and grinning like a lunatic.

"I'll hold it for you, Mick!"

Mick's just glad Barry isn't at a good angle to see his face; the glare he sends Snart could melt the remaining polar ice caps. But if it makes the kid nervous to travel with a compact flame-thrower, Mick can't find it in himself to argue. He's got a lighter on him, if he needs it. Though he's not sure about how long they'll be out, he's perfectly happy making everyone in the warehouse wait as long as possible for cold pizza.

He pulls away from Barry and un-straps the holster, jerking his head towards the Waverider. Barry follows when he starts walking, easily falling into step beside him. When they arrive, Barry looks around the hanger with barely restrained excitement while Mick locks his gun up. He's tempted to offer the kid a tour, but he's hungry and doesn't like spending more time than necessary on the ship. Not anymore.

"So, uh, Vinny's, right?" Barry asks on their way outside. "That's the best pizza I know out in Englewood."

Mick is putting the paper in one of the chest pockets of his jacket when the name strikes a chord in his memory. He locates Snart back indoors and the smug bastard nods once before turning on his heel and strutting towards the people Barry left behind. It's the walk of someone up to no good and as Mick takes in Barry's still-forlorn face, wishes his friend all the best.

"Yeah," he replies as the kid scoops him up with surprisingly strong little arms. "Got something waiting for me out there, too."

In the handful of seconds it takes for Flash to get them to a nearby alley, Mick almost wants to curse himself for overlooking such an obvious hiding place for his share of the Keystone heist.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made myself laugh several times while writing this and then got sad like, immediately after.
> 
> And I just picked a spot in Central City at random for the pizza place. Found [this map online, for reference](https://static1.comicvine.com/uploads/original/11129/111291753/5493617-8mr62wm.png).
> 
> EDIT: So, I was thinking about the Invasion! episodes again and I remembered that Barry met with everyone out of the Flash suit. ...So that's another thing that's diverged from canon I guess! XD That's what you get when you don't sit down and watch the episode(s) again. I mean, if that was bothering anyone. ...Maybe no one noticed...
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	2. CH 1. I swear I'd like to drink the fuel straight from your lighter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not a date. Not really. Not unless Mick wants it to be..?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm using lyrics from Mike Doughty's ["Rising Sign"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HZHHnEa2Cx0) as chapter titles, but I'm doing them out of order from the song. There's a line I'd love to use, later on, but we'll see.
> 
> Also, this kind of diverged from canon, like, immediately. Since my memory of the Invasion! episodes wasn't that great. Oh well?

Vinny's is empty when Barry comes back nearly half an hour later. He'd forgotten to bring a change of clothes along and has to race back to his apartment for something else to wear. He takes longer than he needs to, for just having pizza with Mick Rory (of all people!) He tries seven different outfits before settling on something that he hopes says "casual, but not too casual. I'm not trying to impress you or anything". And _then_ he has to make sure he doesn't set his shoes on fire on the run back to Englewood. Rory doesn't seem to mind the wait; he's inside and talking to someone behind the counter when Barry walks in. Probably placing their order, though Barry hadn't told him what toppings he liked.

"-pick it up later. Tomorrow, if everything goes okay." Rory is saying when Barry joins him. He gets a nod in greeting and smiles back, craning his neck and glancing up to peruse the menu. Barry hasn't been in a while, though everything looks about the same as he remembers it.

"Ordered already, kid," Rory informs him with a little grin. "Ol' Vinny'll bring the pies out in a bit."

"Oh, okay. Cool. …Thanks." Barry winces as he follows Rory to a booth tucked back in a corner. There were definitely moments in the hanger where he didn't sound like a tool; he just needs to recapture any one of those.

"So, uh, I didn't- I forgot to write down what I usually get," Barry trips through his words and tries not to make another face when he catches himself. "It's okay though! I'll eat pretty much anything."

Rory's still smiling when Barry sits down across from him, so maybe he's not making a total ass out of himself. The lack of other patrons makes the restaurant quiet enough that Barry can hear the guys in the kitchen and catch bits of tinny music from their radio. He thought Vinny's had at least one television, but he could be confusing it for any number of other pizzerias.

"Why're you always looking around like that?" Rory asks, startling Barry away from his Hunt for a Distraction.

"What? Like what?" He glances from side to side… not at all suspiciously. _Real smooth, Allen._

"Like you're lookin' for someone." Rory props his elbows on the table and raises his eyebrows suggestively. "Or casin' the joint."

"'Casing'- no! No, no, I'm not really…" Barry drops his head to the table. He doesn't really want to admit the reason, to further cement himself as a geek, a dork. But Rory _did_ ask and Barry doesn't like the idea of the other man thinking he has any criminal tendencies.

"Okay, see, when I was in middle school? …And high school. …And some of college. I was, well, bullied." He lifts his head enough to be heard, but mostly addresses the table. "And it made me kinda paranoid, y'know? It got better and, hey-" Barry leans across the table, voice going hushed as he continues, "Now I have super powers. But some habits are kinda hard to shake."

And there he goes, over-sharing with Mick Rory again. At least he stopped himself before he went off on a tangent about the overabundance of evil speedsters that have forced him to continue the behaviour. Barry slumps back in the booth and wonders if his paranoia is linked to some kind of mental disorder; he'll have to look into it later. …Because he left his phone back at his apartment. With the Flash suit. He's not sure when he stopped using his higher brain functions, but it had to have been fairly recently. Maybe it's stress related; that makes a depressing amount of sense.

"I get it," Rory eventually responds, snapping Barry out of his own head. "Same kinda thing happens in prison- gotta watch your back… 'less you got someone you trust to watch it for you."

Barry opens his mouth to apologize for even inadvertently bringing up memories of Snart, but he's distracted by the four bottles of beer that seem to have suddenly appeared on the table. Rory takes a pull from one of the two in front of him, gesturing with it towards the two nearest Barry as he sets it down.

"Uhm, where did these come from? I didn't know they served beer here." Barry glances around for a cooler or a liquor license in one of the windows.

"They don't," Rory assures him with a devilish twitch of his lips. It's way nicer than the crazy grins Barry's used to seeing and he thinks he'd like it if Mick smiled like that more often. "Vinny an' me and Snart go back a ways- he always has extras around for long-time customers."

That makes a kind of sense, Barry supposes. He's nodding his head in understanding when something else dawns on him. He checks out the windows again, and then takes in the empty restaurant with nervous eyes. "Oh my god," he breathes, brow furrowed as he looks back at Rory. "Is this a _crime restaurant_?"

"…A _what_?" Rory is baffled, squinting as he tries to figure it out himself.

"Like…" Barry half-stands to stretch over the table, get as close to Rory as he can and keep his voice down. "A front for illegal activities or- or mob stuff-."

He's cut off by Rory's laughter, which starts as a chuckle but quickly explodes into a belly-shaking guffaw. There are honest-to-god tears in the other man's eyes, he's so amused. Barry drops back into his seat, the vinyl squeaking and groaning as Rory continues laughing. Barry pouts a little- it was an honest assumption- but he can't maintain it in the face of such obvious hilarity. He joins in as Mick starts to calm down; snickering a little and watching Mick wipe at his eyes with those big fingers. The burns along the backs of his hands disappear up into the rolled up sleeves of his Henley. Barry doesn't remember when Mick took his jacket off- he's a little distracted by Mick's arms, the way the muscles bunch then relax under his scars. They're pretty nice arms, attached to broad shoulders and framing a nice, wide chest…

"So I bet you've had all kinds of cool time travel adventures, huh!" Barry quickly finds a topic to force his attention away from his study of the other man. Mick huffs out another laugh and finishes his first beer, stalling or possibly thinking of a reply, Barry's not sure.

"Dunno if I'd call them 'adventures', but I've seen a lot." Mick's face is blank as he opens the other bottle

It's not the reaction Barry had expected- though he really doesn't know Mick at all- and certainly not the expression of someone who's had even a little fun. The curiosity Barry felt when Mick first approached him at least an hour ago triples; what could possibly make serial arsonist and professional thief Mick Rory look so… empty, almost lost? He supposes losing Snart is a big part of it, but he doesn't get a chance to try to ask as four hot pizzas arrive at their table. The man Mick had been talking to when Barry arrived sets the pans down and another guy shows up with plates and silverware rolled loosely in thick, paper napkins.

The strange look that passed over Mick vanishes in the face of food; his eyes light up and his eyebrows jump in delight. He looks like a completely different person! Barry absently hears him thank "Vinny" for the food, watching as Mick takes two slices from different pies and makes them into a sandwich on his plate. Barry mentally shakes himself, making notes to find a subtle way to return to the conversation about life on the time ship later. He pops open one of his own beers, deciding not to let Mick know it would have no affect on him in favour of studying the heavenly-scented pizzas before him. He's plated a slice of pepperoni and ham and is reaching for what looks like a veggie supreme when he notices the pizza closest to Mick.

"No way," Barry mutters, snatching up a slice of pineapple, jalapeño and Italian sausage. "These are my _favourites_! Literally _no one_ else I know likes this!"

"Snart used to give me hell about it," Mick chuckles around a mouthful. He chews, performing a contented little humming/grunting sound. "Said I was gonna erode my stomach lining or something. Lisa just thought it was gross."

"Their loss!" Barry celebrates with a big bite, eyes fluttering closed and moaning at the flavours. "Oh my god, and there's _two cheeses_ on this, too!"

"Ol' Vinny always uses mozzarella and fontina on his pies." Mick's grinning again when he takes a long draw off his beer.

Barry tries not to moan again when a particularly stretchy length of cheese pulls off his first slice. There's a wealth of thick, rich sauce underneath and Barry feels like he might cry, he's so happy. Mick gives him a strange look and Barry chews quickly, swallowing audibly and gulping down some of his beer.

"There's extra sauce," he informs the other man, as if Mick couldn't tell from the couple of pieces he's already eaten. "Extra sauce is the best, 'cause then you have-"

"-something to dip your crust into." Mick finishes, his expression one of sage understanding with possibly a little surprise underneath. He tips his beer towards Barry and Barry mimics the gesture with his own. His face is starting to ache and he realizes with a little jolt that it's from smiling. He fills his mouth with the rest of that first slice before he can say anything really stupid.

"I think I need to move to Englewood." Barry knows better than to talk with his mouth full, but he's just so excited! This is the best pizza he's had in a while- and that's including what he gets out in Coast City! It doesn't hurt that the short time he's spent with Mick has been the most pleasant interaction he's had in… months. He finishes two more slices before pausing long enough to drain his first beer.

Mick looks a little impressed as he watches Barry start on his second bottle. "F'I knew you liked the Special, I woulda gotten two."

"We can _definitely_ get more to take back with us," Barry wisely suggests. "All that running, and carrying someone _and_ with all the pizza- I'll need the calories!"

"Meant to ask about that," Mick muses. "You probably have to eat a lot, moving so fast all the time."

It's not a question, more of an observation from the other man. Barry nods, mouth far too full now to respond verbally; he's trying Mick's sandwich method with a slice of the Special and the veggie supreme. It's like angels dancing on his tongue. He takes his time on this serving, savoring every bite and committing it to memory, in the event he somehow never makes it back to Vinny's. By the time he's popped the last bite of sauce-soaked crust into his mouth, Vinny is back with four more beers and a knowing look for Mick. Mick raises his eyebrows, glances at Barry and starts to shake his head. And if he were suicidal, Barry might say the little smile that appears on Mick's face is almost shy.

Even though the curiosity is like a physical weight on him, practically a living presence in the booth, Barry doesn't ask what the exchange was about. They lapse into a silence that's comfortable and kind of familiar as they work on finishing off the remaining pizzas. Between servings, Mick even starts to talk about some of the things he saw and did with the other Legends. He tells Barry about every single pocket Snart picked that Mick knew about. Mick confides that what he saw and what Snart showed him was probably only half of his haul. Barry wants to be offended on behalf of the people who were robbed, but Mick looks so happy talking about his friend, his partner, that Barry lets it go.

The conversation eventually winds its way to Mick's favourite mission- 17th century Japan. "-always thought ninjas weren't real. Spent the whole time tryin' to get Haircut's suit back hoping to see just one."

"Of _course_ ninja were real! There's this great book- the _Bansenshukai_  - that's, like, a manual for _shinobi_." Barry drains his fourth beer and notices the puzzled expression Mick's trying to keep at bay. He smiles and rolls his eyes at himself. "Ninja were also called _shinobi_. I uh, I may have gone through a… phase, when I first got into anime, and read a lot about ninja in high school and college. ...But, uh, oh! Did you? See any ninja?"

Mick's entire face lights up. He turns to the side and digs through his jacket for a few seconds, then faces Barry and, with a flourish, presents a shuriken. "I saw a few," Mick replies smugly. "An' I beat some of 'em up, too!"

Barry gasps; his eyes widen and he covers his mouth with both hands. He hesitates a second before reaching gingerly across the table, silently begging for a closer look. Mick sets the weapon in his open palm and Barry moves slower than he has in a long time, bringing it close and examining it.

"This is one of the coolest things I've ever seen…" he whispers. "I can't believe you faced off against real ninja!" Barry turns the shuriken over in his hands, fitting it carefully between his fingers. "What was it like? Did they surprise you-like, blend into their surroundings and you didn't even know they were there until it was almost too late?"

"They got the jump on us, yeah," Mick concedes, a self-satisfied smirk never leaving his face. "Me, Lance and the new girl gave as good as we got. Wasn't the fairest fight- did have my heat gun. But those guys're wily and got more'n a few hits in."

Mick slides to the end of the booth and stands, facing Barry. Barry starts to hand the dagger back, assuming they're leaving, but Mick steps up alongside Barry's seat… and pulls his Henley up to his chest. Barry's eyes don't know where to look first- there's so much hard definition, muscle tone, on Mick's abdomen and sides. The burns are even worse along his right side but don't detract one bit from the almost painfully attractive picture that is Mick Rory 1/3 naked. After several seconds, Barry finally jumpstarts his brain and zeroes in on the reason Mick is… flashing him: there are several, recent fist-shaped bruises and knife/dagger scars. Barry bites his lip and forces his hands to remain on the table; he doesn't want to know what Mick will do if he reaches over and runs a hand along the other man's stomach.

Apparently satisfied that Barry got a good look, Mick lowers his shirt and returns to his side of the booth. He doesn't sit down again, but grabs his jacket and shrugs it on. Barry's already handing the shuriken back when Mick faces him, plucking it from Barry's palm with two fingers and placing it gently into a pocket in the inside of his coat. They walk side-by-side to the front counter to pick up the pizzas for the rest of the gathering, shoulders brushing briefly. Barry doesn't pull away and he's quietly thrilled that Mick doesn't, either. Mick orders two more Specials and Barry pays for everything, stumbling over an awkward, stilted explanation as to where his money comes from. He hates talking about his shitty inheritance, but he doesn't mind using it for other people. And on things he hopes Eobard would think are wasteful. He doesn't care how petty it is- he'll stick it to that bastard any and every way he can.

They wait for the new order outside, leaning against the building to keep out of the cold, November wind. Barry's hands are as deep into his coat pockets as they'll go and he does his best not to shiver. Movement to his right has him taking a peek at Mick out of the corner of his eye; the other man is zipping up his jacket and pulling on a pair of gloves. Barry's happy to see he's not being a wimp or overreacting about the chill. Thinking about the weather reminds him that they'll be taking cold- at best, lukewarm- pizza back to everyone else. He grimaces and Mick sees it.

"What," the other man kind of asks; it sounds more like a statement.

"I was just thinking. Most of the pizza's going to be cold when we get it back- everybody's probably gonna be mad."

"Don't worry about it," Mick assures him. "Just tell 'em it's my fault. My team'll buy it- don't think too highly of me as it is."

"Well that doesn't seem fair." Barry shakes his head. "You guys've been working together for, what, like a year now? Maybe longer? And they still don't… trust you."

"I am a criminal, Red." Mick grins and it's more like the ones Barry's seen in the past. He's not a fan of this smile. "Haven't given 'em much reason to trust me."

"Okay, the criminal part I get. But you're part of their team, their, what'd you and Snart call it? A crew? That can't… it can't feel too good, not really being a part of things. Have, uh, have you talked to them?"

"Already told you- I don't do feelings. I don't do 'talking'-"

"You've been doing a pretty great job talking to me so far!" Barry interrupts. He's not super sure why it's important to him that Mick's okay. It's probably because the situation is hitting a little too close to home; though no one made mention of Mick doing anything like mess up the time line/stream. He's more and more curious as to what could have happened, to make the Legends- most of whom he knows to be good people- treat Mick so poorly.

"Maybe you're just easy to talk to." There's a finality to the words, a sense that Mick doesn't want to say anything else on the subject. Barry can respect that, even if he doesn't want to let it go just yet.

He's still thinking about the shuriken- and Mick's midsection, _damn_ \- so instead of bringing up how much fun he's had the past couple… hours, he says, "I've always liked ninja over pirates."

Mick doesn't show any surprise at the sudden attempt at picking up the conversation. He just smirks and nods. "Dunno why anybody'd bother to compare them- ninjas would win."

"Right? _Thank_ you!" Barry laughs, letting his head fall back against the brick. "It takes _so much more_ skill to be a ninja than a pirate. I've had that argument with Iris for years and she won't budge."

"Iris, huh? That your girlfriend?" Mick tilts his head up, watching the green and white awning flutter in the breeze. Barry chuckles.

"No, naw. She's just… my best friend, I guess? She was, at least. Before all… this." Barry waves a hand vaguely, trying to encompass the entirety of the disaster that is Flashpoint with the gesture. "She's not as mad at me as, uhm, other people, but things've been kinda strained between us. …Kinda been like that with everyone I know, really."

"Thought we were already over this," Mick says quietly. Barry gives him a sidelong glance, mouth twisted into a sardonic smile. Mick shakes his head, then stops and narrows his eyes slightly at a spot in the vicinity of Barry's chin.

"You got something…" He half-turns and reaches across himself, pausing to pull the glove off one of his hands. Mick curls his fingers under Barry's jaw, tilting his head up and back, and uses his thumb to wipe at the corner of Barry's mouth and along his bottom lip. Barry locks eyes with the other man and doesn't stop to think before using his tongue to draw Mick's thumb into his mouth. There was sauce on his face; he dimly registers the flavour around the warmth of Mick's digit. Mick's eyebrows climb by slow degrees but he doesn't pull his hand away. Barry's reaching a hand up to wrap around Mick's wrist, keeping him in place, when the door opens and someone lets them know their order's ready.

Barry moves nearly six feet away, just barely suppressing his lightning. Mick stays where he is, hand still raised, and drags his eyes away from the appendage to nod absently at Vinny. Barry runs his hands through his hair, then over his face and looks anywhere but at the pizzeria and Mick. After nearly a minute, they head back inside to pick up the considerable amount of boxes. Deciding how to transport both the food and Mick is a very welcome distraction. Barry suggests he take the pizza back, first, in two trips and then return for Mick. The other man grunts an affirmative and Barry grabs up the first stack and marches outside. He walks quickly to the closest alley, then flashes back to the old STAR Labs hanger, not even pausing to talk before he dashes back to Englewood for the second load.

Twenty seconds later, it's Mick's turn. Barry hopes his face is mostly flushed from running, that at least Mick will think so. Once in the privacy of the alley, they perform an awkward little dance as Mick tries to get an arm around Barry's neck and Barry tries to scoop him up as fast as possible. A nervous giggle escapes Barry's lips as he finally gets Mick into his arms. Barry takes a step back, getting ready to run, when Mick's hand presses down on his chest. Barry blinks and glances up, confused. Mick is giving him a… cute little grin like the one he sported over lunch.

"Sure you're good to drive, Red? Put away a lot of beer back there."

Barry's face goes blank for a second, then he throws his head back and laughs. He has to stumble back towards a wall, slumping a little as he tries to get himself back under control. Mick's smile falters, but Barry shakes his head, forcing himself to calm down.

"I can't- I can't get drunk anymore," he explains, gasping for breath. "Ever since, y'know, my metabolism burns through alcohol too fast."

Mick clambers out of Barry's arms and studies him, going so far as to bring a hand up and hold his chin thoughtfully. He looks Barry up and down and Barry has to fight with himself to keep from crossing his arms self-consciously. Finally, Mick nods and moves back into Barry's space. "Maybe you're just not trying hard enough."

Barry swallows a few times before he can respond, "I've, uh, I've tried plenty. Drank two bottles of tequila, once. Felt nothing- and not in a 'drunk way' but in a 'oh god I'm still sober' kinda way."

"You like science, don't you. When this whole… alien thing is over, we'll go at this all scientific."

Barry tries not to read into what else "this" could mean. He coughs through another laugh- more of a giggle, really- and earnestly nods his agreement. He honestly hopes there'll be time (and that everyone survives- god, that's morbid to think about). He's still smiling when he scoops Mick back up and whisks them both back to the hanger. He knows without asking that Mick won't say anything to anyone about… whatever happened outside of Vinny's. Barry stomps down his disappointment at the fact that nothing like that will likely ever happen again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I wrote this when I was hungry for pizza. ...I miss pizza.  
> Also, I couldn't remember if Barry's favourite pizza toppings had ever been mentioned in the show (I know I've read them in at least one fanfic), so I just made up something that seemed kind of weird to me.
> 
> Ghost!Leonard was supposed to get some screen time, but that got a little out of control, so you'll see what he's up to in the next chapter.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
